The Cracked Cauldron
by n0n0pants
Summary: (Or: Neville, You Just Burned My Bollocks Off): Neville's lack of skill in potions causes Harry's world to turn upside down. Eighth year. Drarry.
1. Prologue

The Cracked Cauldron

(Or: Neville, You Just Burned My Bollocks Off)

Warnings: Gender Swapping, Vulgar Language, Dysphoria, Potential Smut, Gore

Author's Note: So I read a fic seven years ago with this premise. It was abandoned. So I took the idea and went with it to (hopefully) see it through to completion, adding my own spin to it of course. I don't recall the original title or author, and if this rings a bell for anyone please let me know.

I do not own Harry Potter or other trademarked names or locations. They are property of Bloomsbury Books, Warner Bros., etc. Please support the original content.

Summary: Neville's lack of skill in potions causes Harry's world to turn upside down. Eighth year. Drarry.

It all began weeks before with a loud clatter in the doorway of the potions classroom. Neville Longbottom, war hero and consummate clumsy oaf, had dropped his cauldron on his way into class.

"Bugger, it's got a crack in it. Gran'll have my head. She's had to buy me a new one every year." Neville muttered, scooping the cauldron off the floor and running a hand over the formerly smooth surface. Just behind him, Seamus Finnegan peered over his shoulder and shrugged.

"It's just a wee crack, nothing to go writing home about. Should be fine, mate."

Had Hermione Granger been listening in, she would have told them all the ways that it would not be fine. Too much oxygen or heat from flames hitting the potion. The potential for explosions. Things like that. But as bad luck would have it, Hermione had already dragged her best friend and boyfriend into class early and was setting up her work station, eager to begin the lesson. To make matters worse, that was the very day the class would be beginning a practical lesson in making polyjuice potion, which can be painful even when made and taken properly.

The class started tamely enough after Neville's noisy accident in the doorway. Neville had partnered up with Hannah Abbot, with whom he had developed a close friendship after the battle the previous May. To Neville's immediate left were Harry Potter and then, Harry's partner for class, Susan Bones.

(Most of their classmates assumed Neville and Hannah would end up dating; only a choice few knew that Neville was a complete homosexual)

Uneventful weeks later, Professor Slughorn wrote the final instructions on the board and set himself to work grading the fourth years' essays on the twelve uses of dragon's blood, trusting his "eighth year" students not to muck things up too horribly. Neville's potion was nearing completion. It was bubbling unpleasantly in his flawed cauldron when Hannah leaned over to inspect their work. It seemed to her that the potion was brewing much faster than it should have been (Hermione could have explained why if she only knew). As bad luck would have it, it was at that very moment that a loose hair fell from Hannah's head right into the too-quickly completed potion. In a roar of flames and smoke, the cauldron ignited and potion flew everywhere; mostly onto the fronts of Neville, Hannah, Harry, and Susan. The four began shrieking and clutching at their chests. Neville looked into his lap to see his clothes burned away and his flesh melting and red. Soon the four were blacked out and class was dismissed early in order to get them to the hospital wing in time to prevent any permanent damage.

Unfortunately, they were several weeks too late for that.


	2. Chapter One

The Cracked Cauldron

(Or: Neville, You Just Burned My Bollocks Off)

Warnings: Gender Swapping, Vulgar Language, Dysphoria, Potential Smut, Gore

Author's Note: So I read a fic seven years ago with this premise. It was abandoned. So I took the idea and went with it to (hopefully) see it through to completion, adding my own spin to it of course. I don't recall the original title or author, and if this rings a bell for anyone please let me know.

I do not own Harry Potter or other trademarked names or locations. They are property of Bloomsbury Books, Warner Bros., etc. Please support the original content.

Summary: Neville's lack of skill in potions causes Harry's world to turn upside down. Eighth year. Drarry.

It took a few hours for the screaming to stop. By the time the writhing had stopped, night had fallen. At that point, four specialists from St. Mungo's had been called in, though they could offer little explanation as to what was going on. By daybreak, the four had finally fallen asleep.

It was nearly three in the afternoon when Harry opened his eyes to see Madame Pomfrey applying a salve to Susan's forehead. He tried to ask what was going on, but all that came out was a weak mumble. At once, a healer was at his side, waving her wand over him and taking vitals. She was young, probably about thirty, with very short brown hair and freckles that rivaled Ron's.

"It is an honor to meet you Mister Potter," the healer said, smiling down at him. "My name is Maragret Tate. You may call me Maggie if you wish. I have been assigned to your case, so we'll be getting to know each other quite well."

"Harry," he managed weakly, smiling up at the healer. He looked over at Madame Pomfrey again. "Whuzzat?"

"Very well then, Harry," she pocketed her wand and followed Harry's line of vision. "If you are referring to what Madame Pomfrey is doing right now, she is removing scar tissue from Miss Bones. We were hoping to have all four of you finished before you regained consciousness. The process is unpleasant, but effective. Luckily, we had you and Mister Longbottom finished first." Harry's hand immediately went to his forehead, but it was terribly painful to do so. He hissed and eased his arm back to his side. Maggie laughed lightly. "The salve doesn't work on curse scars, I'm afraid. You've still got that one."

Harry looked back to Madame Pomfrey, who was wiping Susan's face with a washcloth, the scars sliding off as if they were a layer of soap. He could faintly hear sizzling as more salve was applied to the rest of her skin. He winced, thankful that he had remained asleep and unaware during his own de-scarring.

"Yes, unpleasant indeed," Maggie repeated. "Now, Harry. Are you feeling rested? We have much to discuss. I can give you a potion to ease the pain while we talk, and then you can go right back to sleep."

Harry thought for a moment, and then shrugged. Honestly, it was like meeting with Dumbledore after a battle all over again. Only this time, he hoped, it would be about his own well being rather than that of the wizarding world. Maggie smiled at him again and drew her wand, flicking it toward a medicine cart. In an instant, a vial of blue potion was in her hand, and then poured down Harry's throat. Harry sighed with relief as the tenderness and pain lessened all over his body.

"Thank you." He whispered, closing his eyes.

"You may sleep in a few minutes, Harry; but since you are an adult now, I am obligated to tell you exactly what has happened. Also, since nothing life threatening has occurred, I must have your consent for any and all medical spells and potions I may administer. Do you understand?" Maggie asked. Her tone was stern, but gentle. Harry nodded, opening his eyes again. "Excellent. Now, I am pleased to tell you that the potion you were hit with, aside from being extremely hot, was not actually harmful in any way. It was, however, very effective. Too effective. Do you remember what potion your class was brewing yesterday?"

"Polyjuice." Harry managed.

"Indeed. And it seems that the cauldron it was being brewed in was cracked, exposing the potion to direct flames. There was a bit of a… mutation, if you will, and the effects of the potion have become abundantly clear. I'm going to tell you first off that they are permanent, as far as any of us can tell. We've never seen this happen before." Suddenly, Maggie appeared to be very lost. "It's… completely unprecedented."

"What?" Harry asked.

"Well, the good news is that, with your scars gone, you're perfectly healthy and developing at a steady rate." Suddenly, Maggie's voice had taken the tone of a person about to tell another person very bad news.

"De… veloping?"

"Yes. It seems… since the sample that ended up in the cauldron was from Miss Abbot, the potion latched on to one aspect of her identity to turn you and Mister Longbottom. The potion chose her sex. Harry… you're turning into a girl." Maggie watched his face carefully as she said this, wand clutched tightly in her hand.

Harry considered her for a moment. Then, seemingly of its own accord, his hand touched the space between his legs. For the second time in twenty four hours, Harry began screaming uncontrollably.

After he came to from his immediate sedation charm, Harry had to answer what seemed like hundreds of questions. "No, I do not want to change my name."

"Yes, I suppose everyone might as well be told, they're going to find out anyway."

"What do you mean menstruation?"

He had been handed a mirror to examine his new female face. To Harry's relief, he largely still looked like himself. His features had become a bit fairer, softer, but otherwise he was still very much himself. For the first time in a long time, he was glad to have his famous scar. It served as a reminder that no matter what happened to the rest of him; on the inside, he was still the boy who lived. Life had thrown so much at him already – this was nothing. Maggie jotted down his answers and her own notes and then left, assuring him she'd be back in a few days' time.

"I had hoped, Potter," Madame Pomfrey said as the Healer exited the hospital wing. "That I had seen the last of you in these beds when you defeated You-Kn… Voldemort. Well. There's always next year, I suppose. You'll not be at Hogwarts anymore, and then you can be someone else's problem." Though her words implied severity, her tone was fond.

In the next bed over, Neville was going through a similar crisis, and not taking it very well. After his case healer left, he just lay back in his hospital bed and cried. Luckily, since Susan and Hannah were already girls, they had undergone no changes whatsoever and were free to go. Hannah returned to sit by Neville's bed as soon as visitors were allowed, beaten into the room only by Hermione and Ron.

"McGonagall just announced what happened, mate." Ron said, looking shaken. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Oh Harry, I'm so sorry this has happened," Hermione reached for his hand. "I wish there was something I could do but nothing like this has ever happened before. Unless you'd like to get the muggle surgery…"

"I'm fine you guys. I'll be okay. This isn't the worst thing to ever happen to me," Harry said drily. "And, no, I'll not be getting the muggle surgery. I'd be taking treatments for the rest of my life, and that's if it even worked."

Hermione began scrutinizing Harry's form, taking in the subtle changes from the day before. Already two small, soft lumps had grown onto Harry's chest, and though he had gone into potions with a fair amount of stubble on his chin, his face was now smooth and clear. His hips were wider, but only slightly so. "It's happening very quickly, isn't it?" she said quietly, worry etched into her features.

"Yeah, I'm not going to lie, it's pretty painful. Dunno how you managed to put up with it for years," he joked weakly. "Neville's having a tougher time of it. He's got bigger… you know…" He gestured to his chest. "… than I do. The Healers said we'd probably take after our mothers. My mum was a pretty slender woman, her bone structure wasn't too far off from my own, but Alice Longbottom…"

The trio glanced over at Neville, who was clutching Hannah's hand tightly, eyes screwed shut. A sheen of sweat coated his forehead, and they could see his body constantly shifting minutely, stretching and reshaping.

"He's pretty drugged on pain potions right now, but I reckon it's still pretty uncomfortable." Harry said quietly, his face unreadable.

Ron's face was white as a sheet at this point, his freckles a stark contrast. "Poor bastard."

Hermione turned away from Neville's misery and focused once again on Harry. "Harry…" she said uncertainly. "I know you said you'd like to keep your name, but would you like for us to call you by another pronoun?"

"I'm sorry?" Harry looked confused

"Well, you're not exactly a bloke anymore, mate." Ron whispered, looking supremely uncomfortable.

"What? No! I'm not a girl. I mean, I am one, and I'm fine with the body, but I'm still a bloke in my head. If that makes any sense." Harry said hastily, sitting up with a wince. "I reckon it doesn't really matter what parts I've got. I'm still Harry. I'm still a boy. I've just got… tits."

"That makes perfect sense, Harry, and we'll make sure everyone still uses your correct pronouns." Hermione said, patting his hand.

"It does?" Ron asked, raising his eyebrows. "But if he's got girl bits how can he be a bloke?"

"Well, Ron, imagine if this had happened to you. Would you suddenly feel like the last seventeen years of being male meant nothing and now you were a female with no regrets?" Hermione asked. Ron shook his head. "Exactly, you'd still be yourself on the inside, and that's exactly what's happened with Harry."

"I s'pose you're right, Hermione." Ron agreed, then another thought popped into his head. "So does this mean the awkward half relationship you've had going with my sister is off? It's not going to matter very much to her that you're a bloke on the inside when it's the outside of you she's snogging."

"I hadn't really thought about it," Harry confessed truthfully. "I suppose we'll just remain friends, then. It's been really different since the war anyway."

Before the conversation could continue, Madame Pomfrey came bustling in, shooing everyone out for the night. Hermione and Ron retreated, promising to return the next day with classwork (Hermione) and sweets (Ron). With that, Harry was given another pain reducing potion and rolled over to sleep.


	3. Chapter Two

The Cracked Cauldron

(Or: Neville, You Just Burned My Bollocks Off)

Warnings: Gender Swapping, Vulgar Language, Dysphoria, Potential Smut, Gore

Author's Note: So I read a fic seven years ago with this premise. It was abandoned. So I took the idea and went with it to (hopefully) see it through to completion, adding my own spin to it of course. I don't recall the original title or author, and if this rings a bell for anyone please let me know.

I do not own Harry Potter or other trademarked names or locations. They are property of Bloomsbury Books, Warner Bros., etc. Please support the original content.

Summary: Neville's lack of skill in potions causes Harry's world to turn upside down. Eighth year. Drarry.

Harry and Neville's week in the Hospital wing moved along slowly and sleepily, the way life always seems to when you've got nothing to do. Harry was adjusting relatively well with his new body; if he took the time to inspect himself, he was usually overwhelmed by a sense of wrongness, but it was not even close to what Neville was experiencing. Harry's normally quiet but cheerful friend had become sullen and withdrawn. When asked about it, Neville looked at Harry perplexed as to why he didn't understand.

"You're dealing with it too, Harry. Why isn't it bothering you as much?" he asked, pushing down on his chest with the heel of his hand (a habit by now)

"The way I figure it, Nev, I'm lucky enough to be alive. After everything that's happened this past year, I'm just going to try to live my life as normally as I can, enjoy it, you know? And if that means enjoying my life with tits…" Harry shrugged.

Neville shook his head and sighed. After a moment, he spoke again, this time more cautiously than before. "Could I ask a favor of you?"

Harry smiled weakly. He wanted to quip that, since it was Neville's fault they were in their current state, Harry should be the one getting favors, but Neville looked so miserable that he couldn't really say no. "What d'you need, mate?"

"You know how Gran hasn't been to see me yet?" Harry nodded "She doesn't know… about either of us. I was wondering if maybe you'd pretend to be into blokes when she's around? The accident hasn't changed me, except I'm straight now, I guess. I've wanted to come out to her for ages, but if it didn't happen to both of us she'd get suspicious."

Harry was about to flat out refuse, but instead paused. For the first time since Hagrid handed him his letter of acceptance to Hogwarts, Harry had the chance to be a new person. He had an opportunity for a fresh start, and a chance to explore options in life he'd never considered before. The dream of a long term relationship had been, until the fall of Voldemort, just that: only a dream. Now that the world was a safer place, and there was no ever-present threat in the shadows of Harry's life, Harry was forced to actually find out what he really wanted in a partner – not just date the most convenient person.

And why the hell couldn't he try being with a man? He had the proper bits now that no one could give him a problem with it; in fact, the wizarding world would probably go into more of a frenzy if the famous Harry Potter was a lesbian.

By the time Harry had made the decision, Neville had begun to speak again, his face red and eyes averted. "… horribly invasive thing for me to ask, I'm so sorry Harry. I feel awful because it's my fault anyway but this is the one good thing that could come from this mess and-"

"I'll do it." Harry said, interrupting Neville's self-destructive tirade. "Hell, I'll even not pretend."

"…What? You're bent as well?"

"I've never really gotten the chance to know one way or another, have I?"

Neville's reply was cut off by Ginny Weasley entering the Hospital Wing. Since the accident, Harry had been pretending to be asleep whenever Ginny came around, hoping to avoid having to confront the end of whatever their relationship had been. Harry winced internally, aware that there was no way, short of a spontaneous case of narcolepsy, to explain away being asleep when he had been alert and conversing when she walked in.

"Harry! You're up!" Ginny said brightly, quickening her pace.

"Er. Yeah. Apparently you've been 'round? I'm so sorry…" Harry started, carefully constructing the lie in his head, but Ginny cut him off.

"Don't be silly, you need rest so you can heal." Her tone was so similar to Molly's it was scary. "I was wondering if I could have a word in private." She glanced over at Neville. "Sorry Neville."

"Quite all right." Neville said, looking anxiously between the other two Gryffindors. "Er, thanks for helping me out, Harry."

Harry nodded and cast a muffliato charm as Neville rolled to face away from them. Ginny was looking at him calmly and evenly, but her eyes were bright with emotion.

"I'm not gay, Harry." She said the moment he set his wand down. When Harry didn't reply immediately, she continued, "It's not that I don't care for you, or that I think any different of you as a person because of what's happened, but I just… can't be with you. I've been thinking about it a lot, I've hardly thought about anything else. I'm so, so sorry."

After a long moment, Harry spoke. "You've never been one to beat about the bushes." He smiled at her. "I expected this was coming, actually. I didn't expect you to try to stick with me even if I'm not what you want anymore…" Ginny opened her mouth to protest but Harry held up a hand and continued. "Gin, you've always been the girl who knows what she wants. I don't want that to change… even if I've changed."

Ginny's face turned bright pink and she immediately threw her arms around Harry. "I'm still sorry."

"Me too. Promise you'll still be my friend?"

"I'll give Ron a run for his money."

Harry laughed. "Well that's good, because I need someone to help me buy clothes. I've no idea how I'm supposed to wear a bra, and talking to Hermione about it just feels weird."

Ginny began laughing as well, but there were tears in her eyes as she released Harry from her arms. "Lucky thing, Hermione can't dress herself to save her own life." She said, the words cracking from emotion. "Oh Harry…" She took his cheek in her hand. "You already look different. How long did they say it'd take?"

"Maggie – er, Healer Tate that is, the healer working on my case, said it looks like I'll be done changing in a matter of weeks; most likely before the end of the month. Physically, I'm where girls my age ought to be." He ended the sentence as if it were a question. "We're just waiting for my… er… sorry. Too much information."

"You're waiting on your monthly, then?"

"Ah, Ginny, please don't. It's disgusting."

"You're going to have to get used to it, Harry. It's going to keep happening for a long time." Ginny laughed. "Except if you get pregnant, of course. But to do that you'll need to shag a bloke."

Harry thought back to only minutes before, talking with Neville, and felt his face redden. Ginny raised an eyebrow, but simply took Harry's hand. "We've only just broken up, love. If you're going to run off with a man, at least wait a bit. You don't want the world thinking you're a scarlet woman, do you?"

"Scarlet woman?" Harry asked, smiling again. Ginny gently shoved his shoulder. "Shut up. Well, next Hogsmeade weekend, we're going shopping. I'll have you looking halfway decent if it kills me. Plus we can buy matching Halloween costumes for the ball. You did already ask me to go with you." With that, she kissed his forehead and stood to leave

"Ginny, we just broke up, we can't wear a couple's costume to a bloody dance." Harry laughed.

"Harry, I said matching costumes, not couple's costumes. I was thinking muggle police officers." Ginny said, strolling out of the Hospital wing.

((I'm not going to make a habit out of writing author's notes, but I just want to thank everyone who is putting this story in their alerts and favorites lists, it means a lot. I apologize for the really long time between chapters, my hard drive crashed and I needed to get it replaced and my OS had to be imaged (?) and it was a nightmare. Anyway. Always feel free to tell me what you're thinking of the story, I really appreciate the input. Also, I know I never explicitly mention that this story starts in October, but it does. That's a failure in the exposition on my part. Next chapter has Draco in it, I promise!))


	4. Chapter Three

The Cracked Cauldron

(Or: Neville, You Just Burned My Bollocks Off)

Warnings: Gender Swapping, Vulgar Language, Dysphoria, Potential Smut, Gore

Author's Note: So I read a fic seven years ago with this premise. It was abandoned. So I took the idea and went with it to (hopefully) see it through to completion, adding my own spin to it of course. I don't recall the original title or author, and if this rings a bell for anyone please let me know.

I do not own Harry Potter or other trademarked names or locations. They are property of Bloomsbury Books, Warner Bros., etc. Please support the original content.

Summary: Neville's lack of skill in potions causes Harry's world to turn upside down. Eighth year. Drarry.

_My Darling Son,_

_I do hope this year at Hogwarts has been better than your last few years. I know that you didn't want to attend this year but you must understand that our family name has taken quite a hit and it would not do to not keep our heads high and soldier on. Your father sends his love; Azkaban is apparently much more bearable without the dementors. I just thank every star in the sky that Harry Potter stepped in during our trials and kept you out of that awful place. I know I saved his life, but I still feel that I am in his debt for giving you your freedom._

_Speaking of Harry Potter, I have heard (from various sources over tea) that he has recently come into some unpleasantness? Everyone seems to be foggy on the details, perhaps you know more about it and would be willing to divulge to your incorrigible gossip of a mother. Also, I know that you have not always been on the best of terms with the boy, but I was wondering if perhaps you could try to befriend him in his time of need. It's not that I do not think the boy has a fine circle of friends, but it might be prudent if you were seen in his good graces. (And do not think I have not noticed your… shall we call it a soft spot? For him) (Mummy loves you either way, darling, no matter whom you have soft spots for) Do at least keep it in mind for me._

_I love you very much, and hope to receive your reply post haste._

_Your loving mother,_

_Narcissa Malfoy_

_P.S. Do try not to scowl, darling. You'll get wrinkles._

Draco Malfoy, who had been reading his mother's most recent letter with a spectacular scowl across his face quickly tried to correct his expression. His mother didn't miss a trick. Though she seemed to be laced with sugar, she was twice as shrewd as any goblin at Gringotts on his best day, and Draco knew an order when he saw one.

He looked up from his seat in the Great Hall to where Harry Potter was sitting with his (her?) friends. The female Weasley was sitting beside him (her?), making Draco's insides clench. Her arm was loosely draped around Potter's shoulder, and they were talking animatedly with Ron Weasley and the mudbl- Granger. (Draco felt no malice toward muggleborns any longer, but old habits die hard) He scoffed and tucked his mother's letter away into his robes. How could he possibly befriend Harry Potter when Potter trusted Draco about as far as he could throw him, and he was always surrounded by his riffraff of an entourage?

Pansy Parkinson, sitting beside Draco, had been reading the letter over his shoulder, and had a fair guess as to what was on her best friend's mind. "Perhaps you could try to talk to him… her? In Hogsmeade today," she whispered, nodding her head toward the Gryffindor table.

"If you're talking about Potter," Blaise Zabini, sitting across from Pansy, chimed in, "Granger and Weasley have been telling everyone to use male pronouns. Are you finally gathering the bollocks to ask him out, Draco?"

"Draco's mum has asked him to befriend Potter to make the family look better and also because she's got eyes and has figured out that Draco's smitten." Pansy replied, smirking.

"Can't argue with that logic. Not to mention the fact that he's technically a girl now and you can carry on the family name if you marry him," Blaise added.

"Would someone please remind me why I'm friends with the two of you?" Draco asked, rolling his eyes.

"Because Crabbe's dead, Goyle's in prison, and let's be honest, we look fabulous together." Pansy replied. "Anyway, Crabbe and Goyle were rubbish friends and we're all better off without them."

Draco couldn't argue with her logic, but shook his head at her anyway. "You're mad. In any case, I can't approach Potter. He'll never trust me. He'd never want to be my friend, never mind carry on my family line. After everything that's happened between the two of us, he'd be insane to let me anywhere near him. He'd probably have his girlfriend hit me with her bat-bogey hex."

"Didn't you hear? She-Weasley broke up with him after finding out he's got tits." Pansy said, raising her eyebrows at him. "She's not his girlfriend anymore."

"So Ginny Weasley is single, then?" Blaise asked, looking back to the Gryffindors with new interest.

"Keep it in your pants, Blaise; we're trying to help Draco get laid right now. You'll have your turn after." Pansy drawled, slapping the back of Blaise's hand with her fork. "Anyway, Draco darling, he did come to your rescue at your trials this summer. It might not be so difficult getting his trust. His two best friends are often too busy snogging to spend any time with him, his girlfriend's left him. He's probably quite vulnerable right now. I say take the chance."

"I second that," Added Blaise.

"Don't I get any say in this matter?" Draco asked exasperatedly.

"Well yes darling, but Blaise and I have both already voted in favor of it, and even if you vote no you'll be outvoted two to one. Best to just go with the majority. It's what we're good at." Pansy patted his arm with mock-sympathy.

Later that day, the Unholy Trio (as they had dubbed themselves, to contrast Gryffindor's famous Golden Trio)were walking through Hogmeade, excitedly discussing the upcoming Halloween Ball and debating their odds of being the best looking ones there.

"It's not going to do us any good if we look absolutely devastating but we don't have costumes," Draco argued.

"Oh, Draco, it's just so _tacky_," Pansy complained, eyeing with disdain a storefront displaying costumes. "Not to mention cheaply made."

"It's only meant to be worn once. Then you find a person who thinks it would look better on their floor and then, boom, you've gotten a lovely night of tear-your-clothes-off sex without ruining a well made garment." Blaise reasoned

"Come on, Pansy. Potter's going to think I'm a complete _ponce_ if I show up in dress robes and a masque. I need to do the muggle thing if I'm going to get him to like me." Draco whined.

"You _are_ a complete ponce, Draco." Pansy muttered. "Fine! But you're going to pay for it, and I demand that it show off my legs."

They hurried into the shop before Pansy could change her mind, and quickly set to choosing costumes to wear. Pansy was right about one thing, Draco thought to himself as he felt each garment; they really were cheaply made. "I hope I don't get a rash from this," he muttered to himself as he tried to choose a costume.

"Don't be such a ponce, Malfoy," a strange but familiar voice chided him. "I'm sure even your pristine pureblood skin can survive one night in clothes made for us commoners."

Draco looked up from the rack to see Harry Potter in all his feminine glory. He was wearing a short black skirt that showed off his considerably toned legs, and a tight fitting black tank top. It was only after a moment of gawking that Draco noticed the pointed black ears and tail Harry was wearing as well.

"Er…" he said as eloquently as he could, trying desperately not to drool. On the other side of the shop, he could hear Pansy cackling.

Potter looked confused for a moment, then looked down at himself and understood Draco's reaction. "Oh! Ah, this is supposed to be a cat costume. Ginny's got one to match. I think mine is a size too small though. I was just looking for another one when I heard you muttering to yourself."

Draco stared at him in stunned silence for another moment. Harry shifted his feet awkwardly and turned red. "Well, excuse me Malfoy, I'll just sneak by you now, the cat costume display is just past-"

"It's not." Draco blurted out.

"What? Of course it is, I just got this one there not five minutes ago." Harry replied with annoyance.

"No, your costume. It's not too tight. It's meant to be worn like that." Draco explained, slowly regaining his composure.

"See Harry! Even Malfoy thinks it looks nice on you," Ginny Weasley chirped, skipping over to the two of them.

"I didn't say that, Weasley," Draco said, as a knee-jerk reaction. Harry looked at him with something between anger and… possibly hurt on his face before Draco quickly added. "I mean, it does. But I didn't say so. I'm not so uncultured as to catcall every nice pair of legs that passes me."

"So you think my legs are nice, then, Malfoy?" Harry quipped. Again, Pansy's gleeful cackling could be heard, this time coming from the dressing rooms.

At that moment, Draco dearly wished the floor would swallow him up so he wouldn't have to find a way to gracefully leave the conversation and pretend it never happened. The floor was not particularly hungry that day, so Draco had to make do with "If you'll excuse me, I'm trying to shop in peace here. You're distracting me."

"Distracting you with my amazing legs, apparently," Potter sniggered as he and She-Weasley walked away to pay for their costumes.

Draco quickly selected a costume and stormed over to the dressing rooms. There he found Pansy doubled over, half dressed in a devil costume, red faced and wheezing, wiping gleeful tears from her eyes. "That was the funniest thing I've ever heard in my life!" she laughed breathlessly.

"Oh laugh it up, you tart. I'll have you know, that was the first almost pleasant exchange Potter and I have ever had. And of course, per my luck, I had to bollocks it up like an idiot." Draco hissed, undressing as angrily as he could manage. He slid himself into a white toga and affixed a glowing halo around his head. "What do you think?" he asked, turning and inspecting himself in the mirror.

"I think you're dreadfully skinny, but here's hoping Potter's into that!" Blaise said, entering the already crowded dressing room. "I've just chatted Ginny Weasley up. I think she might be willing to dance with me at the ball. She said she's already going with Potter but she would 'see me there'. What do you think, huh?"

"I think you're actually into her and I'm a bit alarmed," Pansy said, adjusting her devil horns.

"I'm not skinny. I'm lightly toned." Draco said, pouting at his reflection and trying to flex his chest. "Just because I'm not a self centered beefcake like you –"

"Come off it, Draco, jealousy isn't flattering." Blaise dismissed, "Do either of you think a merman costume would be too obvious? Trying to get the cat to catch the fish?"

"It should be fine, a mouse would be too obvious," Pansy replied.

"Hey, isn't Potter wearing a cat costume as well? You should be a merman too Draco."

"Believe it or not, Blaise, not everything I do revolves around Harry Potter… actually I rather like that costume, where did you find it?"

"Whatever you say, Draco."

((I bet you thought I had abandoned this story, didn't you? Well, I hadn't. I just needed inspiration. No promises as to when I'll update next, just trust that I will. I promise that much.))


	5. Chapter Four

The Cracked Cauldron

(Or: Neville, You Just Burned My Bollocks Off)

Warnings: Gender Swapping, Vulgar Language, Dysphoria, Potential Smut, Gore

Author's Note: So I read a fic seven years ago with this premise. It was abandoned. So I took the idea and went with it to (hopefully) see it through to completion, adding my own spin to it of course. I don't recall the original title or author, and if this rings a bell for anyone please let me know.

I do not own Harry Potter or other trademarked names or locations. They are property of Bloomsbury Books, Warner Bros., etc. Please support the original content.

Summary: Neville's lack of skill in potions causes Harry's world to turn upside down. Eighth year. Drarry.

It was Friday, the day before the Halloween Ball, before Draco was able to converse with Harry Potter again. Potter, after a year away from school, had been experiencing quite a setback in his classes. Add to that a week away from class in order to heal from the incident earlier in the month and he was earning easily one of the lowest potions grades in the year. Professor Slughorn, in an attempt to aid his favorite student, switched Harry's partner from Susan Bones to Draco, who was tied for top grade with Hermione Granger. The two had spent the week silently working side by side; Harry looked pained but focused the entire time, Draco was simply too embarrassed about what had happened the previous Saturday in Hogsmeade to say anything not directly related to their classwork.

Draco was beginning to panic. His plan to befriend (and possibly seduce) Potter hinged on the two having alone time at the ball, and the longest sentence he'd managed to get out was "Could you please chop these pickled slugs for me?" He was running out of time and he knew it. So as the bell chimed signaling the end of classes for the day, Draco managed to summon enough courage to finally say, "So how are you holding up, Potter?"

Harry turned to look at Draco inquiringly, and it was a moment before he responded.

"Er. I'm well enough, Malfoy. Why do you ask?"

There it was; an opening for actual conversation without any malice. Draco seized the chance. "It's just that you seem to be in a great deal of discomfort. I was wondering if you were all right."

"Worried about me, are you?" Harry replied. "How do you know that it's not just your presence making me uncomfortable?"

'Don't rise to the bait, Draco. Steady on.' Draco thought to himself before managing a smirk and replying "Usually I'm being a great deal more unpleasant before you react. And you don't seem to be in pain when we quarrel. You look like something is hurting you."

The small crease between Harry's eyebrows deepened. "…It's just the potion finishing its work on me, I reckon. It's a bit painful, becoming a woman."

"Haven't you gone to the hospital wing?" Draco asked, fiddling with his book bag. He couldn't believe it. There was no verbal sparring. Just he and Harry Potter, chatting like they were old chums. If it wasn't for the smell of Longbottom's badly brewing potion permeating the air, he would have sworn he was dreaming.

"It's not too bad. Nothing to bother Madame Pomfrey about. I can take it."

"Of course you _can _take it, Potter. We're all fully aware of your capacity to handle suffering," Draco scoffed. "It's just that you shouldn't _have_ to take it."

"Did Draco Malfoy just imply that he doesn't wish for me to suffer? I must be dreaming. I'd ask for someone to pinch me, but I'm feeling a bit tender." Harry laughed.

"Things change Potter. I think you'll find that once the world's been turned upside down, you'd be surprised where some people land."

"Harry?" Hermione Granger had approached the two and laid a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Ron and I are waiting for you to go to dinner. Is everything all right?" She looked at Draco uneasily.

"Er, yeah. Everything's fine. Malfoy and I were just talking about classwork, right Malfoy?"

"Yes, of course. I was just thanking him for putting in so much effort this week. I know what it's like when life interrupts your studies."

If Draco had grown a second and third head, Granger might have looked a lot less shocked. "All right then. Shall we meet you there?"

"No, no. I'm coming. I'll see you later Malfoy."

"Later then, Potter. Make sure you go to the Hospital wing. No one expects you to keep playing the suffering hero."

The two Gryffindors walked away, shooting confused looks back at Draco, who was feeling strangely light. Draco quickly grabbed his books and scurried to the Great Hall, eager to tell Pansy and Blaise the most recent Potter development.

"That's wonderful, darling," Pansy drawled after Draco recounted the conversation. "Could you please pass me the greens? I'm trying to avoid any water weight before tomorrow night."

Draco handed her the platter while replying "You know, I was hoping you'd be more excited for me. This is a very big step."

"Was I supposed to begin penning the wedding invitations? I wasn't aware." Pansy retorted while Blaise snickered. "I wouldn't laugh if I were you. You're worse than Draco, spending the entire week mooning over Ginny Weasley of all people."

It was true. Ever since he learned of her breakup with Harry, Blaise had spent every chance he could near or talking about the youngest Weasley. The two could be seen talking in the corridors between classes; and while Ginny always seemed polite and friendly, it was easy to see that Blaise was quickly becoming infatuated with her.

"Shut it, Parkinson. You're just jealous that no one's after you," Blaise sneered with no real malice, poking his chicken with his fork.

"Oh yes, because that's exactly what I need. A simpering buffoon following me around with grand ideas of _romance_ in his head," she rolled her eyes. "No thank you. I'll marry someone old and rich and then live a life of peace, luxury and promiscuity once he's dead."

"Have I ever told you that you remind me of my mother?"

"I'll take that as a compliment, Blaise. But anyway, back to the matchmaking I actually care about," Pansy said, turning to Draco once more. "Do you think that this afternoon would be enough for him to want to spend more time with you tomorrow?"

Draco glanced over at the Gryffindor table, only to see Harry quickly turning his gaze away from Draco's direction. "Actually, Pansy, I think it might be." He said, a smile slowly stretching across his face.

The morning of Halloween dawned crisp and bright over the Hogwarts grounds. The air itself seemed to vibrate with anticipation for the ball that evening. The corridors were largely deserted, save for a few of the younger students who were not allowed to stay at the dance past 9 pm. Fifth years and older were allowed until midnight; after which the Slytherins were hosting an after party that was completely against the rules (and so therefore everyone who was anyone was going to be there.) The older students had collectively decided to sleep in as late as possible on Saturday morning in order to not been seen as a loser who had to turn in early on Saturday night. Draco Malfoy and his friends rose at around noon in order to eat and adequately prepare themselves. After brunch, Pansy dashed back to the dungeons to "get her face and hair in order" (Draco had no idea what that meant), and Blaise decided he'd like to go hang around the seventh floor "for the view" (read: see if Ginny was up and about) and Draco was allowed a rare opportunity to have time to himself. He decided he'd take his broom out for a ride around the quidditch pitch before getting into his costume. When he arrived to the pitch, Nimbus in hand and scarf firmly wrapped around his neck, he was surprised to find a girl there, hiding under the stands. She had shiny, smooth black hair that came to about halfway down her ears in a very fashionable pixie cut. Draco was about to loudly tell her to clear off when he realized that it was Harry.

"Potter?" he exclaimed, shocked by the difference in the boy's appearance.

Harry let out a yelp of surprise and turned to face Draco. His face was fully done up in makeup and he looked, simply put, beautiful. Black liner was gracefully applied, enhancing the green in his eyes, and his lips were a deep rosy red. His hair was sleek and secured out of his face with a small black bow

"Potter… what on earth?" Draco asked, unable to take his eyes off him.

"Malfoy, listen, if Ginny's around, don't tell her I'm here, okay? She got at me with her makeup, which was bad enough, but now she wants to pluck my eyebrows and that is where I draw the line." Harry pleaded. "I know you hate me but as a man, you must understand. Please don't sell me out."

Draco winced at the mention of plucking. Pansy had had the same notion a few years before and it was terrible. "Not to worry, Potter. I won't sell you out. I'm not completely heartless."

"Just mostly heartless then?"

"Insults will get you nowhere. Oh is that a flaming mane of red hair I spy? Miss Weasley!" Draco waved to a person behind Harry who didn't exist, causing the other boy to turn around sharply. Draco smirked. "Only joking."

"Seemed like a pretty heartless joke to me," Harry grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. "Wanker."

"You wound me, Potter," Draco drawled, leaning on his broomstick. "And you're also terribly mistaken."

"You don't wank? Actually, no, wait, I don't want to know," Harry said, shaking his head. "I'll clear out and brave Ginny's tweezers, you clearly came here to fly."

"Your loss, my wanking stories are legendary," Draco chuckled, mounting his broom. Harry had already begun his trek back to the castle. Draco had to raise his voice slightly in order to be heard. "You're mistaken in thinking that I hate you."

Upon hearing this, Harry turned around and opened his mouth to reply, but Draco continued.

"I don't hate you. Not even a bit." With that, Draco took off before he could see Harry's reaction.

If he had stayed on the ground, he would have seen a bright smile.


	6. Chapter Five

The Cracked Cauldron

(Or: Neville, You Just Burned My Bollocks Off)

Warnings: Gender Swapping, Vulgar Language, Dysphoria, Potential Smut, Gore

Author's Note: So I read a fic seven years ago with this premise. It was abandoned. So I took the idea and went with it to (hopefully) see it through to completion, adding my own spin to it of course. I don't recall the original title or author, and if this rings a bell for anyone please let me know.

I do not own Harry Potter or other trademarked names or locations. They are property of Bloomsbury Books, Warner Bros., etc. Please support the original content.

Summary: Neville's lack of skill in potions causes Harry's world to turn upside down. Eighth year. Drarry.

In order to encourage inter-House unity, and therefore a stronger unity amongst young witches and wizards after Hogwarts, the board of governors had decided that it would be best to host non-competitive school functions at least once a semester. The Halloween Ball was the first of what promised to be many of such events. The evening of the Ball found the Great Hall done up in all of its glory; there were hundreds of levitated pumpkin lanterns, softly glowing with candle light. Orange and purple streamers adorned the stone walls and there were four buffet tables laden with apple tarts, spiced punch, and any kind of festive treat you could think of. Where the staff table normally resided, there was an age line and an open bar. Every cup was enchanted to vanish if a minor was holding any alcohol, and every of-age student was only allowed three drinks before their own cups would vanish as well. The teachers had really out done themselves. Ambient music filled the air, seemingly from nowhere as there was no band to be seen. Many students were dancing, eating, and chatting with students from other houses.

Harry Potter, however, was sitting off to the side of the dance floor, alone.

He, Ginny, Hermione and Ron had entered the ball as a foursome, but Hermione quickly dragged Ron off to the dance floor. Not long after, Blaise Zabini in a merman costume had bowed before Ginny and asked her to dance. To her credit, Ginny did try to keep her friend company.

"Thanks, but unless Harry's got someone to dance with, I'm not abandoning my date," she said, smiling and linking her arm with Harry's.

Harry smiled at her loyalty but shook his head. "Gin, you remember how much fun Parvati had with me at the Yule Ball – which is none. Go on. I'm rubbish at dancing and we both know you'd rather be with Zabini."

Ginny quickly turned red and smacked his arm. "Are you sure? Maybe one of Blaise's friends would like to keep you company?" she looked at Blaise imploringly.

"I sort of abandoned Pansy and Draco as soon as we arrived," he replied, averting his eyes. "They won't be too thrilled about that…"

"Don't worry about it. Regardless of whatever truce seems to have come upon us, I don't reckon either of them would like to sit on the sidelines with me while everyone else is having fun. Go." Harry laughed, nudging her toward the dark skinned boy.

Ginny took Blaise's hand and the two headed off to the dance floor. Just before Harry lost sight of her in the crowd, Ginny turned back to him and mouthed a word of thanks. Harry just smiled at her and rose to get a drink from the bar.

After the house elf tending the bar handed him his firewhiskey Harry scanned the crowd for his friends. Hermione and Ron, both dressed as pirates, were dancing and laughing, their foreheads touching. Blaise was twirling Ginny around the dance floor, and she seemed to be trying her hardest not to blush at whatever he was saying to her. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan (each dressed as a muggle comic book hero) were dancing in a circle with Parvati and Padma Patil (both had long white robes on and a glowing halo floating above each of their heads), as well as Lavender Brown, dressed as a fairy, whose facial scars were easily ignored when you saw how she smiled when she looked at Seamus. Hannah Abbot, dressed as a mouse, was whispering behind her hand to Susan Bones, dressed as a princess. Both looked concerned; Neville was nowhere to be seen. Harry knew he was just up in the Gryffindor boys' dorm, having a quiet night in, and made a note to himself to let the two Hufflepuffs know so they wouldn't waste the entire night worrying.

After a moment Harry felt a presence over his left shoulder. "Lost your date already, Potter?

At the sound of sarcasm in Malfoy's voice, Harry felt his hackles rise. Then he paused for a moment, thinking of their exchange on the Quidditch pitch earlier that day. He turned to look at Malfoy, in the same costume as Blaise, and found that the blond's lips were quirked in a small but genuine smile. Harry returned the smile and looked back at the crowd.

"Yeah. She went off with your Zabini right after we got here," Harry replied.

"Ugh, 'my' Zabini," Draco scoffed, "I will have you know I take no responsibility for that boy or his actions."

"Probably for the best; then it won't be you Ron's trying to beat up when he discovers him snogging Ginny later tonight." Harry chuckled.

"Perish the thought," Draco said, laughing as well. After a moment, he was sober again. "That doesn't bother you at all? The two of you broke up less than a fortnight ago. I would be furious if the object of my affections just…"

"It's fine." Harry replied. "She's a big girl, she can do as she likes. I can handle it; I'm a big girl too after all." Harry heard Draco snort at that under his breath. "It's really fine though. No need to be concerned for me, Malfoy."

"Draco."

"I… what?"

"If we are going to continue being civilized like this, I would prefer it if you called me by my given name. It only makes sense."

Harry turned again to look at Draco, only to see the smile that had previously graced his face was gone, and replace with a strange look of intensity. Harry slowly nodded, but couldn't bring himself to look away from the blond. "Listen, Mal… Draco. I honestly don't know what you're playing at. We hated each other for seven years, and suddenly I turn into a girl and you're trying to be… I don't know what. I realize you saved my life, and I yours, but that doesn't erase all the history we have. What's your endgame?" a thought registered in Harry's mind, and he gasped. "You're not trying to sleep with me are you?"

A look of shock flashed in Draco's eyes but was quickly gone. "I am going to correct you, Potter. You hated me for seven years. I have been jealous of you, angry with you, afraid of you, and felt a whole host of other emotions toward you, but I have never truly hated you." Draco explained, almost eerily calm. "Granted, when you snubbed me on the train in first year I dearly wanted to hate you; I thought we had built up a rapport at the robe shop. And then when you got my father sent to Azkaban in fifth year, I think I might have almost hated you then. But then the Dark Lord came to power and sixth year happened…" though his voice remained unchanged, Draco's eyes became hollow. "I had a lot of time to think, last year."

"About what?" Harry blurted out, totally engrossed.

Draco looked around at their surroundings, and Harry mentally slapped himself. He had nearly forgotten they were at a dance with nearly every other student at the school – many of whom were giving the two strange looks. "Not here." Draco muttered. "Perhaps later. Would you care to dance?"

Harry looked at Draco with alarm. "I don't dance, I'm rubbish at it."

"That is because you do not know how to lead, and the gentleman must always lead. Now I realize you are still a gentleman at heart, but you are in the lucky position of appearing to be a girl, and therefore there would be no shame in allowing me to lead. I insist." Draco extended his hand and, after another moment of deliberation, Harry took it.

Dancing with Draco Malfoy really wasn't so awful. In fact, it was rather pleasant. He kept himself at a respectful distance and didn't press his body against Harry's. They continued to chat, keeping the conversation light. After a few songs, the pair stopped for another drink, and they were met by Blaise and Ginny. The four talked about how lovely the food was and how nice the music was, and how Pansy had managed to disappear with some poor sap from Hufflepuff who was sure to face heartbreak the following morning. Everything seemed light and platonic on the outside, so Harry couldn't explain how, when Draco managed to cajole him back to the dance floor, his stomach seemed to swoop at the sensation of Draco's hand on his waist. Or how it fluttered again when Ginny raised her eyebrow at him across the dance floor and flicked her eyes back and forth between the two. Harry felt his face go red and it did not escape Draco's attention.

"Embarrassed to be seen dancing with me?" he asked, his tone light.

"Er, no. Ginny's just being a prat." Harry responded, looking back at Draco.

"Last I checked, Ginny Weasley is all the way over there," Draco nodded in Ginny's direction. "And I am right here. As I have decided to not be a prat for the time being, how about we ignore anyone being unpleasant and simply enjoy one another's company Harry?" Draco paused. "I'm sorry, that was terribly assuming of me. May I call you by your first name?"

Harry nodded but did not feel the blood leaving his cheeks. Draco smirked at him and leaned his head forward to whisper in his ear. "Thank you, Harry." Harry felt his blush deepen and he pulled back, the song thankfully ending as he did so.

"Er sorry, I've got to use the loo, I'll be right back." He walked a bit away and looked back to where Ginny was, but she was paying no attention to him, smiling almost dreamily at Blaise. He turned and saw Hermione and Ron standing at the wall, deep in conversation, and he hurried straight to them.

"Well, if it isn't Draco Malfoy's date, gracing us with his presence," Ron said laughingly as Harry approached.

"Knock it off; I need to talk to the two of you in private." Harry said. "Hermione, I've told Draco –"

"Are we calling him Draco now?" Ron cut in.

"Shut it. I've told Draco I'm off to the loo and I know girls tend to go in packs, so I was wondering if you'd come with me, and then Ron, you'd meet us in Myrtle's bathroom in five minutes?"

"Sounds like a plan, Harry. Though I do hope this meeting is you explaining your behavior tonight," Hermione said, taking Harry's arm. "See you in a few minutes, Ron."

And with that, the two exited the Great Hall.


	7. Chapter Six

The Cracked Cauldron

(Or: Neville, You Just Burned My Bollocks Off)

Warnings: Gender Swapping, Vulgar Language, Dysphoria, Potential Smut, Gore

Author's Note: So I read a fic seven years ago with this premise. It was abandoned. So I took the idea and went with it to (hopefully) see it through to completion, adding my own spin to it of course. I don't recall the original title or author, and if this rings a bell for anyone please let me know.

I do not own Harry Potter or other trademarked names or locations. They are property of Bloomsbury Books, Warner Bros., etc. Please support the original content.

Summary: Neville's lack of skill in potions causes Harry's world to turn upside down. Eighth year. Drarry.

After Ron had joined Harry and Hermione in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom (and Myrtle had laughed herself silly upon seeing Harry's transformation) Harry's two best friends fired question after question at him, trying to learn what on earth had possessed him to choose to spend the entire night with Draco Malfoy.

"It's Malfoy, mate! What are you thinking?"

"He hasn't touched any of your drinks has he? There's no way he could have slipped you a potion?"

"Slimy git, probably convinced the house elf at the bar to do it."

"Let me check your eyes, Harry, I want to see if you've been confunded. _Lumos._"

Harry recoiled as Hermione reached to hold his face, shining her brightly lit wand directly into his eyes. "I haven't been confunded, Hermione. Is it really so crazy that I would want to spend a night with someone who isn't part of a couple?" he snapped, batting Hermione's wand away.

"Oh, Harry, if this is about you feeling left out now that Ron and I are together, there are plenty of better people to spend your time with." Hermione said sympathetically, tucking her wand away. "You don't need to hang out with Malfoy because it gets our attention."

"I'm not doing it for attention! Malfoy's been decent all year so far, and it seems like he's trying to make amends –"

"Fat bloody chance of that," Ron muttered.

"Look I'm not here to explain myself," Harry sighed. "I'm hanging about with Draco Malfoy tonight and I'm having fun, end of story. I'm not sure why he's suddenly choosing to be decent to me, all I know is he saved my life, and then I saved his, and now whenever he and I talk it's pleasant, and he seems so different but at the same time not very different… it's like something was in the way of everyone seeing him and now it's gone." He took a deep breath and sighed. "I'm not making any sense am I?"

"No." Ron replied, but was cut off by Hermione.

"Now that you mention it, Harry, he does seem more… human now. Being on the losing side of the war probably taught him a bit of humility, not to mention the fact that he knew it was the wrong side long before Voldemort fell – if lying to protect you and treating Luna decently was any indication. I suppose he must have had a long time to figure out what he really believed in, and he must be trying to live according to his own wants and beliefs now. But we're so used to Malfoy acting on his father's or Voldemort's orders that we can't trust him at face value." Hermione said, her brow scrunched in thought.

There was a long pause before Ron spoke. "Hermione, how on earth do you jump to a conclusion like that? Nothing about how Malfoy behaves could possibly tell you that. So he hasn't been a bastard to us yet this year; big deal!"

"Actually, Ron, Draco told me something like that earlier tonight." Harry responded. "Do you think I'm not even the smallest bit suspicious? I am. I asked him what he's been playing at all week and he gave me this speech about how he's changed because of everything that happened last year and so on. I've never seen him so sincere in my life."

"All this week? Is this about what he and you were talking about after potions yesterday?" Hermione asked, rounding on Harry once more.

Harry nodded, and recounted every interaction he had shared with Draco since Hogsmeade, all of Draco's reactions to him in class, up to and including the end of class the previous day. "Then when I saw him this afternoon –"

"Why did you see him this afternoon?" Ron asked.

"Er, Ginny wanted to pluck my eyebrows, and I may have been hiding." Ron nodded in understanding while Hermione rolled her eyes, muttering something about cowardice. "He spotted me and we ended up talking for a bit and I had mentioned that he hated me. He told me I was wrong. And then tonight he went on and told me he never hated me at all and now I'm just horribly confused."

"That's rubbish! He's been a complete arse to you for more than six years and now he says he doesn't hate you? Does he think you're stupid?"

"To be fair, we haven't exactly been nice to him either," Harry started, but Ron continued.

"That ferret started nearly everything that ever happened between us. He's done so many childish, awful things, he let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts, and _do you need reminding as to what word he has called Hermione on several occasions_?"

"Ron, I'm not defending what he's already done," Harry said.

"And you shouldn't!" Ron roared, his face turning red.

"Of course I shouldn't. No one should. But Draco spent the last year in Voldemort's clutches, obeying orders against his will in order to protect his parents, including letting the Death Eaters in. If it was my family, I'm not sure I wouldn't have made the same choice. How about you, Ron? If you knew your entire family would die what would you have done?" Ron looked like he was about to reply, but Harry wasn't done. "He's not the bravest person in the world, and he made a cowardly choice, but that's his biggest crime. Cowardice. But he was sorted in to Slytherin, not Gryffindor, for a reason. You and I and Hermione, we would have found a way to fight, but we have allies who would have fought alongside us. Maybe he didn't. It certainly didn't look like he did in May.

"I think at this point, we should just let it go, because he's been through worse than any penance we could possibly ask of him. I think he's paid for his crimes." Harry finished quietly. "What do you think, Hermione?"

Hermione looked at Harry for a long moment before speaking. "I'm not going to forgive him right away. But I think it might be time to start trying to." Ron made a sound of shock, and she turned to look at him evenly. "Ronald, do you remember how you treated me when we met?"

"What? I don't – what are you talking about?" Ron sputtered, the blood draining from his cheeks.

"First year, when we met, how did you treat me?" Hermione asked. "If I recall correctly, it wasn't very much better than Malfoy used to."

"Hermione, we were kids!" Ron exclaimed. "I was a git, but then the troll –"

"Ron, we're _still_ kids. Yes, you were extremely rude to me until you and Harry saved me from that mountain troll. After that everything changed. I don't think it's terribly crazy to assume something similar is happening with Harry and Malfoy. Harry's right. Malfoy's paid his dues. I'm not saying I'm about to be best friends with him but it's high time we let the past be in the past."

Ron looked like he wanted to argue, but knew nothing would come of it. Hermione's lips were set in a thin line and she was jutting her jaw forward, as if daring Ron to speak. After a moment, Ron sighed and looked down. "I'm not ever going to be his friend, Harry. But if you want to let him into your life, go ahead." He muttered, leaning against the wall.

"Why are you guys acting like I've just married him? I'm just giving him a chance to be a friend –" Harry asked.

"Harry, when it comes to Malfoy, you have an alarming fascination. If you're going to let him into your life, it's going to be in a big way and we all know it. If he's going to be in your life, he's definitely going to be in ours. I will do my best to get past what's already happened, and Ron will try to hold his tongue." The look on Hermione's face said that there was more she wanted to say, something she suspected, but she said no more on the subject. "Come on. Malfoy's probably wondering where you are, and I want to get a drink. I do hope the house elf will accept tips for all of his hard work…" she continued rambling as the trio left the bathroom. Harry and Ron trailed behind her as they made their way back to the Great Hall.

"Harry," Ron whispered under his breath. "Why do you want to be friends with Malfoy anyway? Where did this come from?"

"I dunno, really. There's just something about him… it's like in sixth year, when he was hiding something and I had to find out what it was. Only this time, I think he _wants_ me to figure it out."

Ron shook his head and they continued walking. Once they reached the large doors to the dance, Harry was intercepted by Draco Malfoy himself.

"There you are! I was beginning to think I had been abandoned." He said, taking Harry by the hand. "Good evening Granger, Weasley." He nodded to Harry's best friends, and darted his eyes between the three, narrowing them slightly. "Do you mind?" He gestured at the dance floor, but looked Hermione straight in the eyes.

Hermione gave him a long, even look before replying, "Not unless Harry minds."

Draco smiled and whisked Harry off into the crowd.

"What a weird bloke," Ron said, putting his arm around his girlfriend's waist. "I still have no clue why Harry's acting like this."

"I think I might," Hermione replied, leaning her head onto his shoulder. "In fact, I'm quite certain."

"And why do you think it is?"

"I'll let you figure it out on your own. I don't think even Harry knows yet."

((Urrrgh I hated this chapter but it needed to happen, better to get it out of the way. Anyway, you guys are the best, every review makes my day!))


	8. Chapter Seven

The Cracked Cauldron

(Or: Neville, You Just Burned My Bollocks Off)

Warnings: Gender Swapping, Vulgar Language, Dysphoria, Potential Smut, Gore

Author's Note: So I read a fic seven years ago with this premise. It was abandoned. So I took the idea and went with it to (hopefully) see it through to completion, adding my own spin to it of course. I don't recall the original title or author, and if this rings a bell for anyone please let me know.

I do not own Harry Potter or other trademarked names or locations. They are property of Bloomsbury Books, Warner Bros., etc. Please support the original content.

Summary: Neville's lack of skill in potions causes Harry's world to turn upside down. Eighth year. Drarry.

To Draco Malfoy's utter delight and dismay, Harry Potter was everything he'd hoped for. When he wasn't directing his scorn at a person, Harry had a sort of sarcastic charm that was both hilarious and completely disarming. The two spent the remainder of the ball dancing and talking, Draco soaking up and storing every small bit of information he could glean from the Gryffindor. He felt emotions that he had successfully suppressed for years rearing their ugly heads and clouding his vision every time their eyes met; and minute by minute he found himself becoming completely infatuated with the boy who lived. Soon, however, the younger students were ushered out of the Great Hall and the Halloween Ball began to draw to a close. In small groups of two's and three's the older students made their way down to the Slytherin dormitories for the after party.

"Are you sure we're not going to get in trouble for this party?" Harry asked, as he and Draco walked side by side down the spiraling staircase that led to the dungeons.

Draco snorted and eyed the brunet. "This, coming from the man who has never seen curfew as anything more than a minor inconvenience?"

Harry's face turned a delightful shade of red (and not for the first time that night, Draco's gut gave a strange lurch.) "I've only ever broken curfew in order to save lives." He retorted defensively.

"Ah yes, of course." Draco replied, "Well, I've been simply _dying _to attend this party, and it really would be a life saver if you'd go with me."

Harry regarded him for a moment before sighing and grinning. "What kind of hero would I be if I didn't attend parties with rivals I've only begun to befriend?" Harry took Draco's hand in his and they continued on their trek.

The moment their palms clasped, a rapid staccato began beating in Draco's ribcage. Once he was able to regain his composure, he was able to continue bantering. "_Former_ rivals, Harry Potter. I'm quite serious in saying I'd like to turn over a new leaf. You'll see."

"Why?" Harry asked, stopping their progress once again, now with the entrance to the Slytherin dorms within their line of sight.

Draco thought about all of the things he could possibly say in that moment to win Harry's favor, all of the angles he could work and ways he could spin his emotions so that Harry would want to spend the rest of the night with him. In the end, he decided that how he felt was in no way going to be reciprocated tonight. If he blurted out confessions of his affection Harry would most likely pity him. His best chance was to keep the intrigue high. "I am not drunk enough to elaborate on all of the reasons that I have chosen to make a new life for myself to someone I barely know, and you are someone that – currently at least – I barely know. Either get me thoroughly pissed tonight or put the time and effort into becoming my friend. The choice is yours, Potter."

"I thought it was Harry, now." Harry replied petulantly, "And what about tonight? Doesn't that count toward becoming your friend?"

"Tonight was the first night you've spent any sort of quality time with me." _And hopefully not the last. _Draco thought to himself. "I'm not the sort of person who decides who their closest friends are based on one conversation," he looked pointedly at Harry who had the good grace to blush at the remark. "Friendship with me takes time. My closest friends are the people that get to bask in my glory when I'm at my best, because they also know to keep their mouths shut when I'm a panicking ninny. You are not my close friend until I have panicked about something to you at least twice."

"Twice? Why twice?" Harry asked.

"Because sometimes he panics to people he doesn't know by accident in an effort to come crying to me or Blaise!" Pansy laughed, coming down the staircase toward the pair, with a besotted Hufflepuff in tow. "Stop holding hands and flirting in the corridors, and get inside before a professor hears you!"

Before either boy could reply, she and her plaything had disappeared into the Slytherin common room. After a moment, Harry tugged at Draco's still clasped hand and they went to the entrance of the dorms. Draco recited the password (_Nos Resurgam_) before they too joined the party.

The common room was fairly packed with seventh and 'eighth' years, with the odd rebellious fifth and sixth years floating around. There was an impossibly large supply of alcohol piled in crates in the corner, to which everyone had begun to help themselves. A few Slytherins had brought out their Wizarding Wirelesses from their trunks and had them all playing the same station, magically amplified so that upbeat music that sounded quite a bit like muggle rock drowned out most attempts for conversation.

Draco handed Harry a bottle from the crates in the corner, taking another for himself and, never releasing Harry's hand, moved onto the makeshift dance floor that the Slytherins had prepared by moving all of the furniture to one side of the room.

"How on Earth do you dance to this kind of music?" Harry shouted over the noise, sipping at his drink.

"That's the best part," Draco shouted back. "No one really knows! Just move around and look like you're having fun!" Draco demonstrated by twirling Harry under his arm and swaying around to the beat of the drums. He fake smiled for emphasis, which turned to a real smile when Harry laughed.

At around half past one a.m., disaster nearly struck when a pajama clad Professor Slughorn appeared at the entrance to the common room. Luckily, someone had the good idea to magically hide the alcohol stockpile every time the door opened, so it was only music and students out of bed that had the professor complaining.

"Ah, come on Professor! We're all adults here!" crowed a slurring Blaise Zabini, his arm wrapped firmly around Ginny Weasley's waist. "B'sides, have ever seen such a display of in'er-house unity? Even Potter and Malfoy're gettin' along!"

At the mention of their names, Draco felt every pair of eyes in the room turn to the corner where he and Harry were standing, their bodies far too close to one another for it to be misunderstood.

"I daresay, Potter and Malfoy?" Slughorn muttered in disbelief, his face a mask of shock before he composed himself. "Very well, any students that are of age may remain," there were several cheers around the common room before the professor continued, "but I want each of you to hand in a list of five things you've learned about a student in another house by noon on Monday!" With that, he drew his wand and waved it a few times, circling it in the air like a lasso. An Age Line fell around the perimeter of the room, quickly removing several partygoers to the entryway, where they sheepishly scrambled past the potions master toward their respective dormitories.

After another moment, Slughorn bid the remaining students a good night, and left for bed. The music played once more and the festivities continued. Since Blaise's exclamation, however, Draco could feel the eyes of several of his peers boring into him and Harry's backs as they continued to converse. Every so often Granger and Weasley would whisk Harry away with some sort of half-baked excuse or other (quite clearly thinly veiled attempts to dissuade Harry from spending any time further with him, he surmised), but Harry always returned after a while.

The night wore on and speech became more slurred, eyes blearier, and the entire party was quite thoroughly drunk. By three am, the music was turned down low, and many of the students had gone off to bed (Granger and Weasley included, Draco was happy to notice.) Those that remained had taken to sprawling out on top of one another on any available cushioned surface. Draco, Pansy and Blaise were all on a black leather loveseat, passing a bottle of liquor between the three of them as Harry and Ginny sat in a chair not too far away, whispering and laughing with one another.

"What'dyou reckon they're talking about?" Blaise asked, passing the beverage to Pansy.

"Mos' likely you two idiots," she replied, smirking. "You lot haven't essacly been coy tonight."

"D'you think Harry likes me?" Draco asked, looking forlorn. "I don' think 'e does. Oth'rwise he'd be over here 'n not talking to the she-Weasel."

"Hey!" Blaise snapped, trying and failing to sit upright. "Don' talk about her like that!"

"Oh siddown before you fall down," Pansy drawled, taking a long pull from the bottle. "Draco, Potter likes you jus' fine. You'll see."

"No," Draco replied morosely. "No he's gonna get back together with her and then I'm just gonna be a pathetic loser like father says."

"Lissen, Draco," Blaise said, slinging an arm around the blond, "Your arse of a father is off in Azkaban, an' you're here with me, th' most handsome wizard in Britain, Pansy, the sexiest witch to ever lack a heart, an' you're partyin' with the boy who lived! Now ask yourself, who's th' real loser here, hmm?"

"But why's he over there?" Draco whined, swiping the bottle from Pansy's manicured clutches and taking a swig. "An' you're not the hottest wizard in Britain, dunnerhead."

"That would be me," Harry laughed, rising out of his seat on Ginny's lap and stumbling over to the three Slytherins. He took the bottle out of Draco's hands and finished it off, grinning goofily. "Draco, m'ears were buzzing. Talkin' about me were you?" he clambered onto the floor in front of Draco's legs and leaned his head back, resting it on the other boy's lap.

"Dunno what you're talkin' about, Potter. Pansy, Blaise, n' I were having an… in'ellectual conversation about… stuff and whatnot. Clearly." Draco replied snootily, trying very hard not to smile at the fact that he now had Harry's attention once more.

"Ooh. Stuff _and_ whatnot? What a coincidence. Ginny and I were jus' talkin' about those very same subjects over there." Harry lifted his head from Draco's lap and pointed to the redhead in question, who was smirking and fingering a wave at Blaise. "Which reminds me, Zabini, Ginny had some _stuff_ she wanted to discuss with you, if you'd go over n' talk to her for a bit." Harry rested his head on Draco's lap once more and winked at Blaise.

"I'm pretty sure she just wants t'snog," Harry fake-whispered.

"Then we should get right t' discussin'!" Blaise announced, standing unsteadily. "Shall we take this debate to my room, where there won' be any pryin' ears, Miss Weasley? Ginny laughed and wrapped her arms around Blaise's waist, and the two stumbled off to the boys' dorms.

"Harry, I don' think they're gonna just talk up there," Draco snickered.

"Nah, I don' reckon so," Harry agreed, closing his eyes. "I'm jus' glad she's movin' on from me without any trouble. It's not her fault, y'know…" he gestured to his body, and Draco couldn't help but notice red panties poking out from under Harry's hiked-up miniskirt. He did his best not to dwell on it, but dearly hoped he'd remember the sight for later personal use.

"Harry, it's not your fault either," Draco replied, bending forward so his nose was only inches from Harry's. "'S no one's fault except maybe Longbottom, but he's suff'rin' from it too so there's no point in makin' him pay."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I don' wanna make anyone pay. I'm jus'… not me anymore."

"Tha's ludicrous. You still drive me crazy, same as ever." Draco laughed.

"But I thought we were okay now, Draco." Harry replied, pouting.

"Oh for the love of Merlin," Pansy exclaimed, standing up. "I'm goin' to bed. I'll be prayin' that you'll have sorted this out by sunrise n' save us all a lot of trouble."

"Shut up, Pansy!"

"Sort what out?"

"Potter, if I have t'explain it, you're not gonna unnerstand anyway. G'night boys. Oh, and enjoy the sounds of Blaise n' Weasley snoggin' when you go t'bed, Draco."

Draco felt the contents of his stomach turn as Pansy walked away.


	9. Chapter Eight

The Cracked Cauldron

(Or: Neville, You Just Burned My Bollocks Off)

Warnings: Gender Swapping, Vulgar Language, Dysphoria, Potential Smut, Gore

Author's Note: So I read a fic seven years ago with this premise. It was abandoned. So I took the idea and went with it to (hopefully) see it through to completion, adding my own spin to it of course. I don't recall the original title or author, and if this rings a bell for anyone please let me know.

I do not own Harry Potter or other trademarked names or locations. They are property of Bloomsbury Books, Warner Bros., etc. Please support the original content.

Summary: Neville's lack of skill in potions causes Harry's world to turn upside down. Eighth year. Drarry.

Draco awoke the next day on the same leather loveseat he had lounged on the previous night. His mouth was dry and his head ached fiercely. He blearily raised his head and looked around at the messy common room, where several others had decided to fall asleep on the floor, curled up on pillows and blankets transfigured from various other things. Draco shut his eyes again in an attempt to sleep more in order to quell the hangover storming inside of his head. Just as he began to feel himself drifting off, he felt a small, cool object placed on his chest. He opened his eyes once more to see Harry, makeup smudged and in an overlarge orange sweater that came to his knees. Harry smiled sheepishly and gestured to the object he placed on Draco's chest; it was a vial of light green potion, cold to the touch.

"Hangover potion," Harry explained, his voice raspy. "I figured you'd probably feel about as good as I felt when I woke up, so I made sure to grab you some as well."

Draco eagerly downed the contents of the vial without a word. It tasted like mint, and immediately the headache and nausea disappeared. "Thank you," he breathed, "Where on earth did you get it?"

"Hermione brewed it yesterday. She's useless with a hangover, and she didn't want to have to suffer." Harry replied. "Budge over, I'm exhausted."

Draco sat up and Harry took the newly vacant seat beside him, leaning back and shutting his eyes. "Last night was interesting, wasn't it?" he asked, stretching his arms above his head.

Draco nodded. "It was a great dance. Certainly better than I was expecting."

Harry cracked open one eye and smiled. "I was talking about the party, particularly later on."

Draco immediately recalled his loud drunken lamenting over Harry, while Harry was well within earshot, and it took everything he had not to immediately turn red. "Truth be told, I don't remember much after Slughorn left," he lied, looking at his companion. "Please tell me I did not make a fool of myself."

Harry looked at him for a long moment and chuckled. "Draco, did you know that when you lie, your nostrils flare?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I noticed it a few years ago. Whenever you lie, your nostrils flare. And now you're turning red."

Draco did indeed feel his face heating up. He looked down at his knees, still clad in his merman costume pants. He felt Harry nudge his arm but he refused to look back up.

"Aw, Draco, don't be embarrassed. So you're an emotional drunk. Big deal! I know most of what you said was definitely the liquor talking, anyway."

"Not all of it; you do, in fact drive me crazy." Draco muttered, glancing back at Harry. The Gryffindor was smiling at him, clearly trying to ease his embarrassment.

"Only because you've been crazy from the start. It's all right though. You drive me crazy too." Harry paused for a moment and Draco saw something he didn't understand flash through Harry's eyes before he quickly changed the subject. "Are you hungry? I'm famished. We should eat something."

"Only five minutes ago, you were exhausted." Draco snorted.

"Well… now I'm hungry. It's nearly noon anyway, we should go eat." Harry stood and looked down at Draco, offering a hand to help the other boy up. Draco was sorely tempted to go with him, but he was suddenly overcome with the need to be alone, to think clearly. Harry, when he was near, seemed to permeate the Slytherin's consciousness, and Draco felt like he was simultaneously flying and drowning whenever he heard the other boy's voice. He needed a moment alone. He also didn't want Harry to grow bored of him, so he stretched back out onto the loveseat.

"I'll eat later," he replied. "I didn't sleep very well last night and I think I need to rest a bit more before dealing with the unwashed masses, if you don't mind."

Something akin to rejection crossed Harry's features, but the brunet continued smiling. "All right then. I'll see you around, I guess."

"Yeah, see you."

Once Harry had left the common room, Draco immediately sat upright and raced to Pansy's dormitory (having learned ages ago to shimmy up the banister once the stairs tried to send him down). Soon, he reached the eighth year girls' housing. It was a modest room with only two beds as, out of all of the girls in Slytherin, only Pansy and Daphne Greengrass had returned to finish their schooling after seventh year. Both girls were sleeping soundly, but that didn't stop Draco from sitting down heavily on Pansy's bed with a pathetic whimper.

"Pansy, I need to talk to you immediately." Draco whined, shaking her. Across the room, Daphne stirred and let out a groan.

"Parkinson, get your overdramatic poofter out of here, I'm trying to sleep." She grumbled, pulling her bedcovers tighter around herself and rolling to face away from her roommate.

Pansy let out a groggy snuffle and looked up at Draco, irritation written clearly on her face. "Can't your panic episodes happen sometime after noon?" she asked, rubbing sleep out of her eyes.

"It is five past noon right now, darling," He informed her smugly, pointing to her clock. "That means I can panic as much as I like, because this is when sane people are awake to help me. Since I don't know anyone that is sane, I have deigned to come to you. Now help me."

Pansy stared at her clock murderously for a moment before sitting up with a sigh. "Very well, let me throw on something decent and we can talk over coffee."

"No!" Draco nearly shouted. Across the room, Daphne growled and threw a stuffed animal on his direction. "I've told Harry I wouldn't go to breakfast with him because I was sleeping in, so we can't go to the Great Hall."

"You expect me to deal with your issues half asleep and decaffeinated?" she asked incredulously. "Furthermore, you turned down accompanying Potter to a meal together? What's the matter with you?"

"I needed to talk to you! In private!" Draco whined, squirming so the bed would shake.

"For the love of Merlin, Pansy, go talk to him in private." Daphne snapped, not turning to face them.

"_Fine._ Let's go," Pansy sighed, throwing off the covers and summoning a fluffy lilac robe. "If you ever accuse me of being anything less than a perfect best friend, I will stab your eyes out."

A short while later, after Draco had managed to cajole a second year into getting Pansy a cup of coffee from the Great Hall (which Pansy managed to drink in seconds flat), the two sat in an alcove about twenty paces away from the entrance to the Slytherin common room. There Draco described how disoriented he felt around Harry, the lightheadedness he experienced when Harry looked at him, and he tried his best to accurately depict the sensation that swept through him at the sound of Harry's voice. Pansy listened without comment until he finished.

"So what do you think it is? Why can't I think around him?"

"Draco Malfoy. You woke me up during the worst hangover I've ever had just to tell me you're in love?" Pansy asked, fighting back a smile.

"Surely love must be pleasant, though! Whatever this is, it's disorienting and confusing and slightly painful." Draco replied. "I can't be in love with Harry. I barely know him yet!"

"Love is highly unpleasant, and that is why I've sworn it off. Think about it. Darling, you've been obsessed with him for seven years. You had all these pre-conceived fantasies about him and then when you finally spend quality time with him, it turns out he's just as amazing as you imagined. It's no wonder you fell hard."

"He's even better than I imagined." Draco grumbled, bringing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

"You see? You're in love, you dunderhead."

"Oh Merlin," Draco moaned, hiding his face behind his knees. "What do I do?"

"The way I see it, you have two options. You can either back out of whatever you've started with Potter right now and get over it – which I frankly do not see happening – or you can try to get the idiotic bastard to love you back." Pansy said, patting a consoling hand on his shoulder. "There, there, darling; we'll get through this."

"What if he never loves me back?" Draco asked, his face white.

"If he never loves you back, I'll hex his kneecaps backwards and then you and I can get married and sleep with plenty of men on the side. I'll even give you an heir."

Draco snorted despite himself. "There's no way you'd ever willingly get pregnant." He said, rolling his eyes at her.

Pansy smiled at him evenly. "Just like there's no way Potter won't love you back." With that, she stood and walked back to the common room, leaving Draco in the alcove, his thoughts running wild. He remained there a while longer, mulling over everything in his mind when, to his great surprise, he saw Harry Potter making his way back down the stairs to the dungeons. His face was a mask of thinly veiled excitement, and he had food wrapped in a napkin in his hand.

As he approached the common room, he spotted Draco and scurried over, excitement gone and now appearing confused.

"Hey, I thought you were having a lie-in?" Harry asked, looking down at the blond.

"The younger students were filling the common room with too much noise so I came out here." He lied easily.

"As opposed to going up to your room? Also, your nostrils are flaring."

"Bollocks. Well… I had to talk to Pansy alone, if you must know."

"Oh. Do you mind if I sit with you?"

"It's a public corridor." Harry appeared hurt at the sarcastic tone of Draco's voice, so he quickly amended. "I'm kidding. Feel free to join me."

Harry smiled once more and Draco's heart did a somersault.

"I brought you some food. I figured you were going to be hungry when you woke up again." Harry handed him the napkin-wrapped confection. "It's just a scone. It was all I could manage to sneak away without Ron and Hermione noticing. They think I've gone mad enough as it is."

Draco thanked him but didn't comment further, though he was burning to know what it was that made Granger and Weasley think Harry had gone insane. He chewed thoughtfully on the pastry and wondered if Harry had talked about him at all during the meal, and if so, what he had said. After he swallowed, he turned to look at the Gryffindor. "Don't you want to know what I talked to Pansy about? Why I lied to you?"

Harry looked at him strangely before replying. "Well, I suppose so, but she's your best friend isn't she? It was clearly something that you needed a best friend for, and I'm not your best friend. So it's not really any of my business."

"Since when has my business not been your business? Did you get sick of me in sixth year?" Draco asked, smiling to show he was joking.

"I reckon you're not going to cause too much trouble." Harry replied with a smirk. "And if you do, I'll just start ignoring you. That seems to make you pretty miserable."

"Oh shove off, Potter."


End file.
